


Call Me Maybe

by econator



Series: Sweet Macaron [7]
Category: Political RPF - France 21st c., Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, POV Man-Child, Psychology of Discrimination, Racism, Sexism, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 11:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/econator/pseuds/econator
Summary: Don is waiting for a call from Emmanuel with a small army of security staff around him. He hopes to get through it without upsetting the over-sensitive Frenchie, and ends up agreeing to do something he didn't want to do.Please double-check the tags before you choose to read. There's nothing graphic or Archive-flagged, but the subtext is dark and not really everyone's cup of tea.
Series: Sweet Macaron [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1245380
Kudos: 3





	Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I hit compassion here. I'm not a DJT supporter (not even resident or eligible to vote where he's president), but I was aiming for compassion as a character writing exercise.

Don sat in his chair, making spider press-ups with his hands while he waited for the call to start. He moved his palms closer together, then further apart, imagining them as a spider on a mirror. He hadn't seen anything about France and a military incident, and the silence made him nervous. He wondered if it was another one of those times his pet Frenchie called, after getting himself all offended about nothing, to complain about something Don had done completely not meaning it that way. Maybe he wanted to give Don another gift? That suit Emmanuel gave him for the D-Day trip was nice. Don hoped it wasn't another goddamn tree. The man's obsession with plants was more than a bit gay, honestly, and you'd think he'd at least try to not keep diving over to the gay side of “gay or European.” Not that he could say that without hurting the kid's feelings. He was so easily upset, that one. Better go back to thinking about the suit. It was a nice suit. Not an Italian suit, but a French suit is also fine. The fabric was soft. He looked like they'd gone shopping together, like father and son, except Don didn't want to cringe, like every time his kids did something that reminded him of himself at that age. Ivanka was really the only one who took after her mother enough that it wasn't a problem. It made different problems, but at least not cringe. He tried to remember when he'd last taken his blood pressure medication. It felt like he was going to need some soon, so it must've been a few hours now. Don almost fell out his chair when the phone rang. He picked it up slowly.

'Hello?' he said, trying to play it cool, like he had so many phonecalls he couldn't be bothered to remember that this one was with the guy who told all the D-Day veterans that Don was never better than when...his thoughts faltered.

'Donald, it's Emmanuel.'

He sounded like he was smiling. That made Don glad. This was probably about another suit, instead of someone dying or being offended or something else he'd have to clean up. Hopefully not another fucking tree to keep alive as a symbol of their friendship.

'Emmanuel!' Don said in his excited voice, extra loud, in case Emmanuel's English wasn't so great today.

'How are you, Donald?'

'Fine, good, yeah. Peachy. Everything's peachy. Just peachy.'

'I'm happy to hear you're well.'

'And you, Emmanuel? How are you doing?'

'Oh, making progress, on the move. You know how it is.'

'Good good. Great. Cool.' Don ran out of words to fill the awkwardness, and decided to just say what he was thinking. 'So, what was it you wanted to talk about? I'm a very busy man, you know.'

'Yes, Donald. I can imagine there's a lot on your plate right now.' The perfect French fucker sounded ridiculously smug in the way that made Don want to brush imaginary dandruff off his shoulder again, just to humiliate him without calling him the teacher's pet and making his scary wife crazy-mad. 'Listen, I was just wondering if you'd heard about Rouen?'

Don's mind ticked over, trying to remember the people Emmanuel had introduced him to while they were in France. He didn't think any of them were called Rouen. Was it one of the pretty young things at one of the dinners? One of the serving girls, maybe? Or was it a wine estate? Don might not drink, but wine estates were good properties to own. Made very nice luxury retreats. Of course, they'd be better if people took all those pesky vines out the valleys and made a golf course there instead.

'Donald?' Emmanuel said quietly.

'Look, I'm sorry, but I don't think that story was on the news over here.'

'It's a very sad story. There was a fire at a chemical plant.'

Don wondered what in the fuck it had to do with him, but Emmanuel was clearly calling for some fatherly sympathy.

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' he said, feeling like he'd nailed it. 'Very sorry. So sad.'

'Yeah. It's always very unfortunate when foreign businesses have accidents on French soil. It leaves such a bad taste in people's mouths to have their animals poisoned because safety standards weren't adhered to.'

Don chuckled at Emmanuel's pun. He relaxed, knowing that he wasn't in the cross-hairs in this conversation.

'I'll bet! Whose was it?'

'One of yours, I'm very sorry to say.'

'Oh.' Fuck. Fresh target on his back, fresh cross-hairs. Fuck. 'That's...uh...unfortunate. Very unfortunate. What's the damage?'

'There's about three hundred million in agricultural losses, plus about two million of extra spending in the local hospitals to take care of the cost to people's health.'

'Ha, that's why the first thing I got rid of when I got in was Obamacare. Paying medical is such a drain on the profit margins!'

Don chuckled at his quip. Emmanuel would have to admit it was a pretty quick throw-away for this close to lunch time. And medication time as well. Low on blood sugar, high on blood pressure, and definitely in need of a burger. 

'Yes, well,' Emmanuel said without laughing. 'I was wondering if you'd like to call the chairman before I do, make sure he's in the mood to talk, maybe extend some compassion to my honest, hard working farmers.'

The puzzle pieces finally fell into place in Don's mind.

'Oh, a quid pro quo? I get you the pay-out, and you drop the taxes on American products. Got it.'

'I didn't mention the corporation taxes; I need to keep those to prevent riots in the street, remember? I just need a hand compensating my people for an American company's morally repugnant mistake.'

'So no corporate tax cuts?'

'Look, Donald, listen to me. This is not the first time this factory has poisoned French people, and French farms. There are honest workers, doing a fair day's labour, and our dairy herd who need to eat grass from fields without chemical ash. My people deserve fair treatment under French law, but it was not a French company who poisoned them.'

Emmanuel really needed to lighten up a bit. He was living up to his name, because only Jesus H Christ could be more sanctimonious than this arrogant fucker. Fuck French law. Europeans were far too soft on their employees anyway.

'I'll think about it.'

'I'm asking you as a friend, Donald.'

Because of course that softie would go there. Bastard. Playing the friendship card was a dirty move. Laying obligations like kindness and loyalty on him was exactly what that law-abiding teacher's pet would do, and definitely a dirty move. Not as dirty as filming him with a hooker and blackmailing him with the tape, but still a dirty move.

'Fine, what's his number?'

'Thank you, Donald. I'll have my assistant work out the details with yours. You made the right choice.'

Don didn't feel like he had much of a choice. Emmanuel was using his gentle voice, which somehow always seemed worse than when he was shouting and swearing in French. It made Don worried that Emmanuel had something on him. 

'Yeah. I'll have to trade a favour to get you that call.'

'And I'm very grateful to you for doing that. You won't regret it, Donald. Doing the right thing isn't always easy, but it feels a lot better than having it the other way.'

Emmanuel sounded like he was wrapping up their call. The blackmail question still hung in Don's mind, and he felt like he couldn't end the call without finding out.

'Just out of interest, you don't have any video footage of me from my trips to France, do you?'

'Of course I do. Melania looked lovely in Biarritz, and you were standing next to her. Please give her my love when you next speak to her? Why do you ask?'

Don couldn't work out if Emmanuel was blackmailing him over something Melania had done while she was off with the other ladies. Naïve, genuine little fucker, he probably wasn't. But Don had to make sure.

'Sure. Of course. So, none of just me?'

'Why do you ask? Did you so something I need to keep quiet?' Emmanuel sounded annoyingly like Ivanka. Not that he could ever be really annoyed with Ivanka, such a pretty, pretty little girl, but you know.

'No. No. Nothing like that. I'm making a birthday video for Melania. I want to make sure it's all of her, is all. Do something thoughtful that she'll like.'

'But Christmas and your wedding anniversary are both between now and Melania's birthday?'

Because of course the perfect little fucker remembered girl math like that. He was annoying to win an argument with.

'Big birthday. Bigger than the anniversary. Anyway, I was just waiting for your final offer.'

'Oh, okay. I'll have my media people pick some nice clips of your trips to France, and send them over when you've made the call. As for final offers, I can share my green agenda with you again, if you've changed your mind about the Paris Climate Agreement?'

'Oh. No, I'm good, thanks.' Emmanuel really was a naïve kid. He was a good kid, though, despite how annoying the little French fuck was. 'Thanks for the suit you gave me at D-Day. It was comfortable. Soft.'

'Oh, you are most welcome, Donald. I'm very glad it was comfortable. Are you sure you haven't started to change your mind about the Paris agreement?'

Don felt like he needed to end the call. His heart was pounding like he was on the cusp of a heart attack, and it was definitely time for more blood pressure pills to even it out.

'No, I'm still quite sure, thanks. Thank you for the call. I'll do that thing, just send my assistant the details.'

'Oh, that's fantastic news. I'm so glad you've agreed to ask him for half a billion in compensation for the French people! You're never greater than when you're working for the people.'

Oh, that was it. Working for the people. Had a nice ring to it. “Don, man of the people.” He should use that as the title of his presidential memoir. It would go down very well with his base.

'Sure, Emmanuel. I'll do that. You're welcome. Any time.' Don hung up before he accidentally agreed to do more favours for Emmanuel. He took a deep breath and made a few spider press-ups with his hands before he looked up at the security people who'd sat in on the call. 'I think that call went well,' he said.

Some guy in full dress uniform looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.

'The factory that burned down was a subsidiary of one of our major defense contractors. We went over it in this morning's security briefing.'

'Mike?' Don said, glancing around the room for his VP.

'Don't look at me,' Mike said. 'I want plausible deniability about this whole poop show when it goes public.'

'Shit or peep, Mike. Shit show, or peep show, not poop show. Never poop show.'

'Stop correcting me. Look, it's less than one percent of our defense budget for this year, so your little mistake could fly under the press' radar, if that French homosexual keeps quiet about it.'

'Is Emmanuel gay? I thought he just had a granny fetish? I mean, no shame in having kinks, but I thought he was into wrinkly pussy, not dick? I wouldn't have hugged him quite so much if I knew he was gay. But you're right, that does explain how close he is with Justin.'

'That's what you thought was important in that sentence?' Mike said, sounding irritated.

'Budget. Yes. Less than one percent. Should stay under the radar. Okay. Someone text Emmanuel and tell him to keep it quiet. I don't want this blowing up in my face. It's lunch time now, anyway.'

His staff stared at him for a brief moment before that efficient little Latino girl took off her headphones and picked up her clipboard.

'I'll tell catering that it's lunch time,' she said, hurrying out the door.

Don remembered to bite back the joke about being saved by Jesús until the doors closed behind her. He also remembered that he should call Latino women “Latina,” because something about how the Mexican language works. Today was going well. Maybe he'd even score a burger and cake for lunch? That pretty little Latina was probably screwing someone down in catering. He could definitely reap rewards in free food, if that was the case.


End file.
